A Dragon's Bloody Appetite

HAZEL

Lux Hotel. Room 60.

Devorex leads the way, he opens the door and I enter his hotel room after him.

As he walks to one of the spacious and clean desks, he takes off his jacket and puts down his phone, wallet, keys and cigarettes.

I stand in the middle of the room, looking over the luggage tucked away in or against the wardrobes and spacious closet. One case is open and empty, with clean shirts and suits hanging up.

I walk over toward all his stuff.

“Here we are again… but no sword…” Devorex grinds out, while he doesn’t mind me walking around near his suitcases and personal items.

I spin around and look down at his thick black boots, which he is now unlacing, putting them to the side of his desk.

“No sword,” I agree, sly, “…I don’t need a sword.”

I walk past the bed, I deliberately look at the clean sheets, and then at Rex, as I move toward the bathroom. “I’m going to use the restroom, I hope you don’t mind?”

Devorex watches me walk toward the open and large restroom. He says nothing. I take that as an A-okay.

I walk in and shut the door.

I immediately go to pee – I needed to go so badly. All the deep-rooted anxiety in my body made my stomach clench unnaturally the whole way here.

Now that I was back in his space, exactly where I needed to be – I could find all my answers, so I was strangely far more relaxed once we walked back in here.

After I’m done peeing, I walk toward the mirror, and I look over my red lips, smokey eyes and braided hair.

For some reason I imagine the length of the braid could be used to wrap around my neck and choke me, and that scares me.

Paranoid or not, I quickly start to unravel it. Just in case.

A woman’s power wasn’t just in her wiles.

Devorex was a Dominant in the bedroom.

How was I going to take control of that? I had to find a way to take control of it, or I might be in danger otherwise.

Once my hair is out, I clean my hands a second time, to waste a couple of more seconds.

The time ticks by, as I turn off the tap and use a clean towel to dry my hands.

I turn toward the door I shut, and I wonder what the hell Rex could be doing on the other side of that door.

If I wait any longer and lose my nerve, I’ll never open it – and I didn’t want to be too scared, or he might start to treat me like prey again.

So far I had somehow kept his respect tonight, and he wasn’t ‘hunting’ me down anymore. At least, that’s not what it felt like.

I open the restroom door, expecting anything.

Devorex is on the other side of the room.

He’s shirtless, just wearing his ripped black jeans, barefoot by the window and overlooking the view of the city, the curtains drawn right back to let in the city lights.

Rex has got his forehead resting on the window pane, as he looks down at the sidewalks, looking a little intense as he seems to enjoy watching people walk like ants below him.

I go to join him, after slipping off my ballet shoes by the bed, I walk up to the window and put my hand on the glass, following his gaze down to the street.

It’s nearly midnight but the city is still very busy with foot traffic.

“Thousands of years ago, you, I and… Korserath…” Devorex begins to tell a tale of some kind, or maybe a story…

I immediately wonder if this is his version of dirty talk? Maybe a make-believe scenario? Roleplay?

He trails off though, and when I look up at his face, I have to quickly divert my gaze back to the city streets below.

There was a tear on his cheek – after running out the corner of his eye.

What the fuck.

“Who is Korserath?” I ask, tentatively.

“My brother,” he whispers, so pained.

“Is he… alive…?” I ask, barely.

“No,” Devorex really has to grind that out between clenched teeth, “He’s dead. They’re all dead.”

All?

Let’s start somewhere a bit smaller than that...

“So where did the ‘thousands of years ago’ come from, exactly?” I ask, dead calm. “You’re starting to sound more crazy than me.”

My neck and shoulder tickles, and I’ve missed him reaching for me.

I wince a little too hard, as Rex’s large hand simply brushes my hair over my shoulder, but he pulls back after I react so negatively to his touch.

“Dragons died out, they were pretty much extinct thousands of years ago,” Devorex talks more quietly, watching me now, rather than the city.

“I didn’t die.”

I catch his eye and lean on the window with him standing next to me. I decide to stay quiet, and to listen, like I ‘believe’ him.

“You survived a good while, but died eventually. And you were born again. Everyone… mostly everyone… was born again.”

“How come?” I ask, hardly following his strange tale, but trying to comprehend.

“What’s important is why they all died, Hazel,” Devorex holds my eye, sombre, “Hercula and Versa tortured their mate, Freesia, so badly, she cursed all of Dragon Kind.

“Hercula and Versa… they were only two of my brothers.”

“And Korserath?”

“Also my brother,” Devorex is happy I’m listening, and he seems relieved to be speaking about this.

“Four of us. Four dragons. But Freesia, the girl who went mad, she wasn’t alone either – she was separated from you at birth. She was your twin. You and she were mated to four Dragons.

“If we had been together from the start, that would have been six of us, a Six Pointed Star. But they’re ~all~ gone. You’re the only one I found to be born again.”

“Maybe your brothers were born again but you haven’t found them?” I mention.

“No,” Devorex shakes his head, smiling morbidly, “They can’t return – because I refuse to die. Even though I’m so old. So no, Hazel… they’re gone forever.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” I dare push him on this, “…and what was I… thousands of years ago… supposedly…”

“A Queen,” Devorex answers far too quickly.

“Oh, come on. You’re just pulling my leg now,” I scoff. “This is all a joke to you?”

Devorex’s crimson eyes flash, he’s mad, and he’s about to lose that quick temper. I quickly take a step back, just in case and my own eyes are frightened.

No sword.

Maybe I was a fool to return unarmed.

“…I’m not going to hurt you…” Devorex sees the fear in my eyes, “…why would I hurt my mate… relax…”

“So you killed Nick, didn’t you?” I ask, point blank, not caring about Rex’s stupid story, just caring about the consequences. “…and you ~do~have his head…”

“I’m not lying about our past,” Devorex’s eyes become a little distant, “…~I didn’t kill him~…” but he can’t look me in the eye when he says that part.

“Stop asking me such a ridiculous question –~I don’t have his head.~ Stop asking to see it.”

I taste it on the air.

In his anger.

Devorex is lying. At least, I think he is.

He can be very convincing otherwise.

Fuck – I was so close to an admission.

“So I was a Queen,” I choose that line, “And you were my…?”

“I don’t know what I was,” Devorex whispers, a true admission, as he looks over the city and seems to think very deeply, “I don’t know how I survived so long aside from the blood…”

“You drink blood…?” I go a little pale.

I had a vague memory of that apartment in the Skeleton Quarter, and a girl leaving with a bloodied neck… stumbling out of an apartment down the same corridor I had been renting from.

“I can’t shift anymore – my Dragon’s gone,” Devorex opens up again, growling it all out, wanting me to know.

“It’s Separated. From me. That’s how I survived Freesia’s Curse. All I have is… whatever is left of me. Can you imagine, a dead Dragon, a dead Queen, three dead brothers – a dead ~species~–

“Then just me, living off of blood, for thousands of years alone… and one day… millennia later, I see my beloved butterfly again, your long distinct silver hair, exactly the same as I remember –

“In a beautiful wedding dress, looking just like the Queen I remember, ~even holding a fucking sword~… just like I remember…” …he seems so happy reminiscing, but… Rex was at my wedding…?

How did he know what I wore on my big day? Now ~I~ feel mad.

~How long was Devorex stalking me for?~

Fuck!

I take ~another~ step away from him.“You’re a stalker,” I accuse him.

“Have you heard nothing I said?” Rex snarls, impatient that I keep backing away, but even so, he doesn’t move toward me, he lets me move wherever I like, and he stays by the window.

“…It doesn’t fucking matter… anyway… I need to ask you to do something before we fuck,” we’re back to the present, but it’s not much better.

“It’s going to be that cold, is it?” I ask, now crossing my arms. An emotionless one night stand. Of course that’s what he wanted.

“I need your blood,” Rex reaches into his pocket, takes out a fucking knife – and before I can scream, he tosses it at my feet… he’s offering it to me.

“Can you make a small incision on your hand – or your finger… please…?” Rex looks me right in the eye. He’s not fucking joking.

“…and why… ~in hell~… would I do that…?” I ask, my hands fisted at my sides.

“I have an appetite for blood, ~I’m still born a beast,~” Devorex admits, his eyes ravenous with honesty, and a violent truth.

“And I’d rather suck on your slit finger for second, rather than risk…”

“…what, ripping my head off?” I ask, without blinking, waiting for his eyes to show his darkest truth.

“Something like that,” Devorex whispers, without blinking, his crimson eyes keep hold of me, “If you can’t do it – or you’re not willing… leave now.”

“You could have mentioned the blood thing – ~before~ – when we were on the date,” I lean down to the carpet anyway and I pick up the small pocket blade. I’m glad I can hold a weapon right now.

I inspect it. I wonder if this was the weapon he used on Nick? It seemed like a rather jagged cut, when I saw the headless neck, “…so you like Submissive women…”

I keep a hold of the blade, and look into his eyes, “I’m not exactly that type. Just in case you haven’t noticed already.”

“You’d be surprised what I can do to you, butterfly,” Devorex calms down, then touches his shoulder, right over his tattoo. “To remind me – to never forget knowing you before this.”

“I don’t know if I believe it all… that story…” I admit to him. “However, you seem to believe it. Kind of like how I believe, what I believe, and you know what I believe.”

I raise the small knife, pointing it at the infamous fighter, ~Rex the Blood King~.

“You shouldn’t have given me this knife, Devorex. I won’t cut myself. For your appetite. But I’ll cut you, if you even suggest drinking my blood again.”

“All my Subs let me do it,” Rex mentions, like I’m a coward, “It’s not a big deal, Hazel.”

“Oh really, and they just take this, and cut themselves for you?” I yell it, exasperated by his casual tone, “Yeah fucking right they do.”

“You’re right, they don’t cut themselves for me,” Devorex begins a guttural ground up snarl, pissed off by my accusation, “~They give me their necks~.”

“No shit,” I laugh, keeping the blade between us, “Stay away from me, freak.”

“Does it look like I’m advancing on you?” now Devorex seems exasperated, as he whispers in a fucked-up drawl.

“I said to leave if you can’t give me your blood – but funny thing is, Hazel… you’re still here.”

Well? He’s right. My eyes flicker to his luggage. I lower the knife, as my eyes scatter over everything in the room. I couldn’t leave just yet.

“…are you looking for something?” Rex asks, sly, while I look anywhere but at him.

“No,” I lie too quickly.

“How about I go outside, to have a smoke – and you have the room to yourself, to calm down, alone,” Devorex turns toward his desk, and walks toward his jacket and the packet of cigarettes he left there.

I feel stupid with how calm and reasonable he’s being.

And how angry I am.

Despite the insane stuff he’s telling me, he sounds like he believes it.

So I should believe him. And maybe I should ask him more questions, even if I don’t get him at all.

“Wait, hang on… I’m sorry,” I walk toward Rex’s rippling bare back, where all his muscles are ridiculously defined, and I casually throw the knife back on his desk, giving the weapon back to him.

“Maybe I can’t do ~that~,” I nod to the knife, “…but how exactly… do the Submissives do it for you…? Show me. Without – you know, actually doing it.”

This would be a good test, to see how fucking insane he was.

Some people liked to role play in sex, maybe he was just role playing as a vampire?

“Well I usually fuck them first,” Rex drawls, unenthused by my suggestion, and his response is a slow explanation, while his hands are on the back of the chair, over his jacket.

“Then why didn’t~ ~we~ ~fuck first?” I snap, “~Before~ you mentioned taking my blood – talk about a mood killer. You’re so weird... I swear… who the hell are you…”

When I stop talking, and he says nothing, and a new silence descends, my own words echo around the room and they sound… I sound… kind of desperate to fuck him.

Shit.

Devorex turns to me suddenly, and his hand goes to his own mouth, where he rubs a thumb over his lips, and he stares down at my face… and then my neck.

“You’re no less strange, being here with me,” Rex warns me, “Your feet must be sore from dancing – why don’t you rest? I’m taking this cigarette out of the room so the alarm doesn’t detect the smoke.”

Devroex walks forward, almost right into me, but I move out of his stride just in time. I walk to the bed, annoyed, sitting on the edge of it.

Devorex casually exits out of the hotel room, into the corridor.

The door swings shut.

I wait for his shadow to move away from under the door – and then I look toward his luggage.

This.

Was it.

This was the moment I was waiting for.

I get up and I run to his shit, opening everything as quickly as I can, looking through everything.

Nick’s head. Where is it? But I’m not really looking for his head. I’m looking; not to find it.

Because if I ~can’t~ find it – I can fuck him. He turned me on.

Okay. I fucking admit it. I wanted to fuck Devorex. He was exactly my type. Fuck. He was every girl’s fucking type.

Besides, he clearly left the room to give me an opportunity to do this.

To clear all my suspicions and paranoia, to clear the way to the fucking bed.

So we could finally fuck. Without talking about decapitated heads and dead husbands.

My investigation is thorough.

He has a lot of clothes. Most of it is clothes.

However…

Toward the end of my prying, I jerk open a heavy lid – and inside one compartment are heavy, ancient weapons. My hands trail over them, and I conclude quickly these are not custom made from this time.

These are not for costumes, either. They’re very real…. they’re thousands of years old. There’s even armor – shoulder plates, arm guards, shackles, a chain, and what looks to be a spiked collar.

A large collection of ancient items.

I find it intriguing but I can’t stop here.

I have one more compartment left, at the back of the pile, it’s a smaller piece of luggage.

I pick it up, and it’s relatively heavy. I unzip it.

It contains one item, neatly vacuum suctioned – in see-through clear plastic. And no, it’s not a new dry-cleaned suit.

My whole world fucking implodes in an instant, because I’ve found my answer.

Kneeling on the carpet, my panties already wet for Rex to return and fuck me – I’ve come across…

Well… I’ve… found… the evidence.

A trophy.

Nick’s head was here.

Devorex… he did see our wedding.

Devorex did kill my newly wedded husband.

And he did hex me.

Which meant this ~whole~ time, I wasn’t fucking crazy at all.

However, Rex… was fucking insane.

And now I had the proof.